


sick of the drugs but never sick of you

by Mirandaleigh77



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Drug Withdrawal, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Protect my poor baby, Protective Mark, Vulnerable Roger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 11:00:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12725355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirandaleigh77/pseuds/Mirandaleigh77
Summary: Roger was huddled and shaking against the wall beside the toilet. His skin was pale and wet, sweat soaking the collar of his shirt.Mark hesitated, "Do you want me to stay?"Roger is going through withdrawal, and Mark is a good friend who just may become more.





	sick of the drugs but never sick of you

**Author's Note:**

> I've noticed in rent fics there is a significant lesser amount of Roger going through withdrawal, so I wrote it myself. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> Go easy on me this is my first Rent fic.

Immediately after walking into the loft, Mark heard the sounds of retching coming from their bathroom. He slid the door shut and walked over to the small room. Roger was huddled and shaking against the wall next to the toilet. It twisted Mark’s heart to see him like this; his skin was pale and wet, sweat drenching the collar of his shirt. Upon seeing Mark, and the grocery bag hanging from his wrist, he frowned.

“You bought me something? I told you to save-” Roger was cut off by another round of dry heaving. His hands clenched white-knuckled at the sides of the toilet.

Mark kneeled next to him, grabbing a towel and tenderly wiping the man’s forehead. Roger leaned into the touch, his eyes squeezing shut and his stomach lurching. Mark wrapped an arm around his shoulder, murmuring, “C’mon, rockstar. Let’s get you back in bed. You’ll be a lot more comfortable there.”

“I’m getting off heroin-I’m constantly uncomfortable.”

Mark frowned but didn’t take it to heart. He knew that Roger was suffering, not actually mad at him. The man helped Roger to his feet, letting the man lean most of the weight on him. Mark half-carried the blonde to his bedroom, helping him lay down. The man’s eyes were slightly drooping from the pain and exhaustion of withdrawal.

“Do you want the blanket?” Mark asked quietly. Roger nodded, so Mark pulled the thin blanket up to his chin.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised before leaving the room to get the new bottle of pills he had bought and a glass of water. Mark came back with both, spilling two little blue pills into Roger’s shaking hands.

“What are they?”

“Painkillers,” Mark reassured, showing him the bottle’s label.

Roger put them between his teeth, and Mark helped him take a drink to swallow them.

“Can I change shirts? I know we don’t have a lot to wash them, but-” Mark shushed him and nodded. 

“Of course, you must feel disgusting.” He went to the older man’s closet and grabbed a thin tee shirt. He knew that at first it would be cold, but after another bout of cold chills, it too would be coated in sweat. He helped Roger into the shirt and threw the other in the hamper. Roger leaned back against his pillow and curled up on his side. Mark hesitated before asking,” Do you want me to stay?”

Instead of lashing out, Roger just shook his head and buried half of his face in the pillow. Mark lightly wiped his forehead again before leaving the room.

As Roger rested, Mark cleaned the bathroom and living room. Both were places that the older man spent most of his time when the withdrawal got bad like this. Some days, Roger could handle it on his own, but other days he just barely managed to stay awake.

At least in sleep, however, the man wasn’t dealing with the symptoms.

It was perhaps an hour and a half later when Mark heard a crash from Roger’s room. He rushed in and sighed in relief when he saw Roger still lying safely on the bed. The crash had come from the broken glass on the floor. Roger was shaking visibly, once again covered in sweat.

“I-I’m sorry. I just wanted a drink, but my hand jerked and…” Mark walked over, carefully avoiding the glass, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“It’s fine, rockstar. It’s just a cup. We have plenty.” They had maybe five, but that wasn’t the point right now. Mark made to get up to bring more water, but Roger grabbed his arm.

“Stay. Please.” Roger’s eyes were brimmed with unshed tears and his chest was heaving. Mark’s resolve faltered quickly, and he moved so that he was beside Roger in the too-small bed. The bed was so small that their sides were brushing with every breath. For a while, they stayed like that. Neither of them spoke or even shifted. Eventually, Roger looked over at Mark.

“Can we...can you-”

“You want me to go?” Mark was already moving away, but Roger grabbed his hand this time. The shock froze Mark to the spot.

“Can you lay with me?”

“I am...Roger, is your head getting fuzzy again?”

“No, I just mean...really lay with me. Like, hold me.”

The surprise must’ve been evident of Mark’s face because the hopeful look in Roger’s eyes turned dark. “Nevermind. Forget it. It was dumb anyway.”

Mark quickly shook his head, squeezing Roger’s hand in his to keep him from pulling away. “No, Roger, it’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. I was just...surprised. Usually, you’re Mr. Tough Rockstar.”

Roger laughed slightly, ending in a small cough. “Yeah, well. These drugs are kicking my ass. And...I know that I’m not the best to be around. Especially now. But...you’ve been here for me and taken care of me this whole time.” He paused, looking down at their clasped hands. “Thank you. I probably wouldn’t be here it it wasn’t for you; I’d be dead in a ditch behind some shitty park bench.”

Mark moved closer so their knees were on top of one another’s. Roger leaned his head on the younger man’s shoulder with a soft sigh. Quietly, Mark whispered, “Well, I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Me too.”

Roger looked up at him, lips slightly parted. Before Mark could even comprehend what was happening, Roger’s lips were on his. The younger boy let out a soft sound, his hand coming up to carefully hold Roger’s jaw. Stubble lightly pricked the smooth skin of his fingers.

The kiss didn’t last long, both men pulling away after a few seconds. Roger’s face finally had some color to it- a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Was that okay?” His voice was still quiet and a bit amazed by what had happened. 

Mark smiled shyly, “Pretty okay for me, rockstar.”

Roger laughed, once again ending in a slight cough. Mark gingerly laid him down, curling up behind him. Mark pressed a loving kiss to the nape of his neck.

“I know I’m not the most rugged guy out there, but I’ll always be here to take care of you when you need me, “Mark whispered, his lips brushing against Roger’s shoulder as he spoke. 

“Thanks, Mark. First you kiss me, then you insult my bad boy persona by saying that I need help.” Roger’s voice was happy and teasing as he grabbed Mark’s hand where it rested on his stomach.

The younger man smiled and let out a contented hum. “It’s what I’m here for. Making boy’s question their masculinity one kiss at a time.”

“Shut up.”

Mark squeezed his hand happily. “You shut up. You’re the sick one here.”

Roger glanced back mirthfully over his shoulder at the red head. “Make me.”

With a fond roll of his eyes, Mark leaned forward and kissed Roger again. It wasn’t the most physically pleasing kiss he had ever had; Roger’s lips were chapped against his own, and there was a clammy sweat on the man’s skin. However, it was the kiss that he would cherish. If Roger could be happy and healthy next time, he would gladly take those kisses too.


End file.
